The China Lake Syndrome
by byrhthelm
Summary: Just six months after his marriage to Mac, Harm is unsettled


**AN**: I'm trying something new here. This story doesn't really tie-in with "Jennifer Coates" but it does share some links with "A Different kind of Healing". I don't know whether I'll just leave this a short, or maybe try and develop it into something longer. Let me know what you think.

**The China Lake Syndrome**

The Captain's voice boomed out of his office, into the smaller area where his Yeoman had her desk, "Yeoman!"

"Sir!"

"Petty Officer Jansen, that last mug of coffee was practically poisonous, do you think it is at all possible," he asked, gently waving his white china mug backwards and forwards, "that somewhere in this God-forsaken desert there might, might just be some drinkable coffee?"

Despite his whimsical words there was no trace of humour in his voice, and Petty Officer Jansen, much as she had once liked, and admired the Captain, could tell that this wasn't the time to respond in a like manner. She contented herself with "I'll get right on it, sir."

She hurried across to the coffee machine in the corner of the main office, wincing as an F-18 roared low overhead. That was the trouble with a northerly wind, it put this complex of buildings right under the flight path, and after six months in post she still hadn't gotten used to the sudden howls of jet engines on maximum thrust. As she passed Tommy O'Neill's desk he looked up and grinned at her reaction, "Bad as the Old Man," he said just loud enough for her to hear, and jerking his head in the direction of the CO's Office.

She smiled, acknowledging his sympathy. The trouble with these old buildings, she thought, was that the wooden walls did very little to stop sound from travelling, and on more than one occasion recently she had stood quivering at attention while her principal had impatiently, emphatically and very loudly drawn her attention to her many delinquencies. At least, she reflected, that's how he'd phrased it.

She couldn't understand it. When she'd been assigned this post, her friend Sandra Dennis, who had known the Captain at Falls Church, had been frankly jealous. She would die, she had said for a chance at that billet! Captain Rabb she had said, in her slow Alabama accent, wasn't just handsome, he was as kind as his rank had allowed him to be, generally good-humoured and considerate to all, especially those junior in rank, and of all the JAG officers she had known, he was the one she would choose to work for. That, Jansen reflected bitterly, had not been her experience of the man. On her first assuming her duties everything had been fine, but within two months of her arrival everything went downhill; he had seemed to be in a perpetually bad temper. He had kept her working late almost every night, so that she seemed tired all the time; although, she reflected, he worked just as long hours, and yes, she recalled, he did nearly always say 'please' and 'thank you', but that surface politeness did not make up for the scowl that sat permanently on his face. If he was the best officer to work for in Falls Church, then the others must have been real pigs!

Knocking on his doorjamb she waited, with a growing sense of grievance, until he beckoned her to come in; stepping forward to his desk; she placed the mug of freshly brewed coffee within his reach and stood in the 'at ease' position.

He looked up at his Yeoman, waiting; she obviously had something to tell or to ask him. The silence continued and the seconds stretched out. Eventually he half-snapped at her, "Yes, what is it?"

"Sir! The Petty Officer wishes to be informed if the Captain finds his beverage satisfactory, sir!"

He sat up in his chair. Startled out of his introspection, he studied the young woman staring at the wall behind and above him. Yes, he thought, and young was definitely the word. He studied her dispassionately, she was tallish, about five-seven, five-eight, he estimated, about twenty-two years old, maybe. Blonde hair, shading to light brown where her cover protected it from the Mojave sun, slim and quite pretty, he thought, but no film-star or super model.

He'd once overheard a Lieutenant Commander in the O Club describe her as 'Petty Officer Barbie' and had led him gently to one side to explain just why he found such comments inappropriate, unwittingly adding to his fast-growing, and as yet unsuspected by him, reputation as a hard-ass.

At the present he was intrigued by his junior's attitude. She had always observed the military courtesies and he had never been able to be on easy terms with her in the same manner he had been with the Admiral's yeoman, back at Falls Church, but then again, Jansen wasn't involved in his life in the way Coates had been; Jansen's sudden and never heard before adoption of the very formal third person mode of address, however, warranted some investigation. He closed the file on his desk, and said, "Close the door, Petty Officer".

When she had done so, he said, "Sit down. Now what's all this 'the petty officer wishes to be informed' nonsense, Jansen?"

"Sir, permission to speak freely, sir?"

He nodded, "Go ahead."

"Sir when I was assigned this billet, I had expected to find myself in a place where as a Yeoman I could work with, instead of just for, an officer, become part of a team, and maybe make a difference."

"And the job hasn't come up to your expectations? Is that it?"

"No, sir, it hasn't."

"Why do you think that might be? Do you think that you're not up to the job, that it's too difficult for you?"

Stung, Jansen replied without thought, "No sir! I am more than capable of performing my duties! I think it's you that's too difficult!" then as the enormity of what she had just said dawned on her, she went white under her tan and waited for her world to collapse.

Instead she found herself being studied thoughtfully by his bright blue eyes.

"You don't pull any punches, do you Jansen?" he asked in a level tone.

"Sir!" she gasped, "Sir, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me sir, I'm sorry, sir, I promise, it won't..."

"Happen again?" he interrupted her, with a wintery smile. He stood, but waved her back to her seat as she made to follow suit. "Well, maybe I deserved it, at that." He looked at her as he perched on the corner of his desk, "That surprises you does it? Do you want a change of billet? I can have you re-assigned if that's what you want but I'd rather not cut you fresh orders. Despite my being...aah... difficult, I have got used to you being around, and I have just about gotten my taste buds used to what you call coffee, but most importantly, it wouldn't look too good on your record. Before I accepted you as my Yeoman, I checked your fitness reports, mostly 3s and 4s with a scattering of 5s. According to them, and they're not all from the same reporting officer, you're good at your job, you're on track for promotion. I see no need to raise questions about your ability by making you the subject of a premature reassignment. If there's something wrong then we need to find out why and fix it. Alright? Good!. Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Once she had left his office, he returned to his chair, and leaning back gave consideration to her words. She was right, she _was_ good at her job, and a premature re-assignment wouldn't look good on her record, and more importantly it wouldn't be fair or justified. She was right, he had been difficult. He had been unnecessarily demanding, worked her for too many long days, and then snapped at her when she'd made errors because she was tired, he had even snapped at her for no reason, and had generally been pretty unpleasant to be around. She wasn't the only who had suffered, either. He remembered the bull-pen at Falls Church, after the morning's greetings no-one there took any formal notice of officers crossing the room. But here as soon he stepped onto the deck, everyone stopped what they were doing and sprang to attention.

It was his fault he grudgingly recognised. He had never really felt settled here. It wasn't the type of work he was used to doing. He looked at the pile of folders waiting his attention. Contracts, compensation claims, acquisitions, legal analyses - Corporate law, dammit! He was a litigator, and a damn' good one! And being so close to flying without actually being on flying duties was killing him!

He knew he should feel grateful to General Cresswell. It was due entirely to that officer's pulling of strings and his willingness to revise the internal organisation of JAG that both he and Mac had been able to stay in the service after they had married.

Especially, he reflected, after he'd turned down the London-based NATO position he'd been offered. Cresswell had been the soul of generosity. He had re-assigned him as Staff JAG at China Lake, not only enabling him to keep his fourth ring, but had re-designated the post so that it fell directly under JAG HQ, instead of as before in the San Diego Chain of Command, where Mac headed up the Joint Services Legal Team. That piece of card shuffling had circumvented Navy regulations that barred husband and wide from serving in the same command. San Diego was only some two hundred fifty miles away on good roads allowing the newly-weds to meet at weekends on a regular basis, with only a four hour drive between them, or an even a shorter delay whenever he could persuade the Base Air Group Commander that he needed to keep his flying hours up to date. He had persuaded Catherine Gale, the CIA attorney he had worked with on a couple of occasions, to produce his qualification records on the various aircraft he had flown for the company, so he was fortunate in not being limited too much by aircraft availability. He listed his good luck: he had married the woman he been in love with for nine years, had been permitted to stay in the Navy, been assigned a post within comparatively easy reach of his new wife, and still got the occasional opportunity to fly. So why the hell was he so dissatisfied?

Whatever the cause, he still had no right to take out his frustrations on his subordinates. Petty Officer Jansen, he reflected, had always been calm, quiet, cool and professional. He really must have stuck an outsize burr under saddle to make her snap at him that way. He had done just that, he glumly admitted to himself; he had ripped up at her several times recently not only far more severely than any of her perceived faults had required, but on more than one occasion when she had not been the guilty party. He tried to remember any other instance in the past where he had been as... as... inconsiderate, and found to his somewhat shamefaced relief that he had not. He tried to recall if either Admiral Chegwidden the previous JAG or General Cresswell had ever been unjust in dealing with their Yeoman. No, he couldn't remember, or remember hearing about them acting like that, although he knew that the irascible old admiral had frequently roared his anger and frustration at his Petty Officer, but not in the way he had. He smiled to himself, Jen Coates was probably one of the most endearingly annoying people he had ever met, knew her faults and was prepared to take a hit if she overstepped the bounds - as she had done for him after Chaco Boreal. Besides, she was also one of the most resilient people he had ever met, with a strength of spirit that had enabled her to weather the storms.

He had resisted the temptation to ask for her to be-re-assigned as his Yeoman to China Lake; they had grown close, perhaps dangerously close when she had become the other half of an informal, but strictly platonic, relationship in the guardianship of Mattie. It had hurt when Mattie had chosen to return to her rehabilitated father, but he had been glad for her sake, although her absence had been an almost physical pain. He frowned, saddened and angered by the memory of all that had happened to Mattie. But in the aftermath of that terrible crash, which had so very nearly taken her from him permanently, it had been Jennifer Coates who had had to tell him the news that Mattie had been badly injured, it had been Jennifer Coates who come looking for him and Mattie at Blacksburg hospital. It had, though, been more than just a physical distance, he had, as usual when he was troubled, erected his emotional barricades, keeping everyone at arm's length, protecting himself from more pain, and had hunkered down behind them, just him, Mattie and his fear. It had been Jennifer Coates, the only one of his friends, who had been brave enough to confront him and tear down those walls; to force him to let someone in to comfort him and share his pain. It was that closeness that had inhibited him from requesting her as his Yeoman. Mac, he sensed had always, even when he and she had been dancing around the subject of their attraction to each other, been a little jealous of his and Jennifer's shared jokes and the family-like evenings he had shared with her and Mattie in the neighbouring apartments a couple of blocks from Union Station.

He had been stunned when Mac informed him that Coates had applied to PCS to San Diego as Mac's yeoman, and that she had accepted the application. He was grateful though. Mattie's paralysis had kept her tied to her bed in Blacksburg Virginia, and he had sworn to her that he would never let her be alone again. The General had again been more than flexible; he had allowed him to prolong his stay in Virginia until Mattie had been well enough to be flown to San Diego, where she now shared a house with Mac - and him whenever he could get home. Jennifer, Mac told him, and been enormously helpful in coping with a terrified and fretful teenager. He was still embroiled in the legal web of applying for guardianship, and now that he was married he was considering moving for legal adoption, and the emotional stresses which he had tried to keep to a minimum had had an inevitable impact on Mattie and her recovery.

It was comforting to be able to pick up the 'phone and hear Jennifer's voice every time he spoke to Mac, and she had always managed in the few seconds they spoke to pass on a message or some scrap of news from Mattie - something that Mac, immersed in her work sometimes forgot unless he made a point of asking.

Was that the cause of his discontent, he asked himself; his worrying about and missing Mattie? Well, he could fix that, he told himself, he would be home at the weekend and share as much time as he could with her. Although he was honest enough to admit, that the thought of sharing his nights with Mac sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. The urgency took hold of him, and pressing the call button on the interphone, he said, "Petty Officer, get hold of the Base Air Group Commander's office for me, please."

Her prompt, "Yes, sir" told him that she was at her desk, and on the ball. He had been unfair to her, he would have to try and make that up somehow. He thought he'd overheard her, on one occasion, say that she had a boyfriend in San Diego, perhaps he could offer her a lift one weekend, save her the gas money.

The inter-phone buzzed, "Base Air Ops, for you, sir!"

"Hello, Operations, this is Captain Rabb."

"Good morning sir, Lieutenant Commander Samuels, sir, how may I help you?"

"Commander, have you got anything scheduled for Miramar or North Island today, I need to get to San Diego, and back again tomorrow."

"Would you be happy as a passenger sir? Or do you need to fly yourself?"

"Never happy as a passenger, Commander, but if you haven't got any drivers' seats vacant; I'll learn to like it for once!"

"Sir, we've got a C-2, wheels up at thirteen hundred, bound for North Island, and due back tomorrow. It's mostly spares for the VF 121 squadron down there, but we've got a couple of rumble seats still rigged."

"A couple? Hold the line one moment please Commander. Standing he crossed to his office door. "Jansen, I'll explain later, but can you get an overnight bag packed and back here for twelve-thirty hours? You can?" he added as she nodded her head, "Good girl!", and picking up the 'phone he said "Commander? Sorry about that interruption, chalk in two for the C-2 please, that's myself and my Yeoman, Petty Officer 2 Jansen. Great, thank you commander. Yeoman!"

The door opened and a somewhat mystified Jansen asked "Sir?"

"Petty Officer, clear my calendar until fourteen hundred hours tomorrow, then get away to your quarters and get packed, ready for one night away. We're going to San Diego, ETA North Island fourteen hundred. Call your boyfriend and have him meet you there. Report back to me ASAP, ready in all respects for movement!"

Even more mystified, Jansen could only reply "Aye, aye, sir!" before she fled.

Twelve-fifty hours found Captain and Yeoman on the flight line, and as he demonstrated how to wear the white tabard and the skull protector, Jansen finally asked him, "Sir, what's this all about?"

His grin was just a bit sheepish, "Jansen, I've not been fair to you. As you reminded me this morning, you are good at your job, and I've been taking out my bad temper on you. So in the hope of being able to improve my somewhat soured disposition and as a result being able to treat you a little better, I'm going home to see my family tonight, and as there's a spare seat on the COD, I needed to have my Yeoman with me; well," he paused and smiled, "until we get to North Island, anyway. Did you get hold of your boyfriend?"

"Uh, yes sir, but he's on duty until seventeen-hundred, so I'll have to wait for him. Is there anywhere I can hang at North Island, sir?"

"No, no, there isn't, not somewhere I would be comfortable leaving you. It's not exactly Dulles International. But," he continued, "there's no reason why you can't wait at JAG!"

Their entrance to the bull-pen at JAG was greeted by a shout of "Attention on deck!" and to which he responded with an immediate "At ease, everyone." He cast his eyes over the bull-pen and seeing a vaguely familiar face, addressed it, "Petty Officer, would you see that my Yeoman gets access to a telephone, and then show her where the galley is?"

Jansen was instantly aware of the difference in the atmosphere between this office and the legal office at China Lake. Both places were busy, but here the conversations were carried on in normal voices, not in hushed, urgent whispers, and she was even more aware of the smiles and nods of greeting as she watched Captain Rabb cross the bull-pen, and acknowledging the greeting of an older PO 1, "Hello, Captain, Good to see you again, sir." Nobody at China Lake would have spoken to him without him speaking first. She shook her head slightly in disbelief, and smiled her thanks at the Petty Officer who indicated a desk and phone she could use. She could still see Captain Rabb as he entered the CO's office complex and see the way the brown-haired Yeoman leapt to her feet with a huge grin of welcome on her face as he greeted her.

Jennifer Coates had been busy typing, her eyes on her computer screen, when he had walked into her office and lounged against the door frame. He smiled in pleasure at the sight of her. Somehow, despite the intervening years she still seemed the same girl-woman he had met that Christmas four years ago, and with whom he developed such a close and warm relationship during those months they had first shared caring for Mattie, and in a way for each other

"Hello, Jennifer," he said quietly.

Jennifer jumped to her feet, sending her chair flying as she did so. "Sir! It's good to see you again, sir. We don't get the chance very often!" She had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him, but she felt as if the two ends of her grin might meet at the back of her head. "Are you staying long sir?"

"Only for as long as it takes me to drag Mac away!" he nodded at the closed door to the inner office, "Is she free?"

"Not for the moment, sir, Major MacLaren's in with her, he's just joined as a JAG, from the _Tarawa,_" she said, naming one of navy's amphibious assault ships.

They passed the next few minutes in friendly conversation, talking about Mattie, and how she was doing, now that she'd recovered almost full use of her arms, and was adapting to life in her wheelchair. There was as always his gentle teasing her about her refusal to call him by his name instead of 'sir'. He'd never managed to persuade her during those months they'd been so close; he was sure it wasn't going to work now, but he still tried.

Eventually the door opened and a stockily built man in his thirties left Mac's office, seeing Harm, he halted and drew himself to a brace, "Good afternoon, sir "

"Good afternoon, Major, dismissed" said Harm as his entire being now focused on the inner office he made for the door. He stopped at the door and looked across at the woman standing behind the desk, "Hello, Marine," he said softly, "How's my favourite Jarhead?"

Major MacLaren, brushed negligently to one side by the Captain's progress, looked at Coates and said, "What the hell?"

"The Colonel's husband, sir," she said in an off-hand manner, her attention fixed on the tableau unfolding in the inner office, which terminated as Harm took his wife into his arms while just retaining enough presence of mind to kick the door shut behind him.

The Major giving her an appraising look, and then deciding it was none of his business, shook his head and went looking for his new office.

Coates sighed and returned to her computer, no matter what goes on in life, she told herself, this is still the navy and there are always more damn' reports. Becoming aware of another presence, she looked up to see the blonde Petty Officer that had accompanied Captain Rabb into the office.

"Can I help you?" she asked coolly.

The other girl smiled hesitantly and said, "We've never met, but I'm Christine Jansen, Chrissie; I'm Captain Rabb's Yeoman. We've spoken on the 'phone, I think?"

"Yes, of course we have! I'm Jennifer, Jennifer Coates. Come on in and take a seat, do you need something?"

"No, I'm just killing time, the Captain had to fly down and he brought me with him, and then gave me the afternoon and evening off. He told me to tell my boyfriend to pick me up here. So I'm just waiting until he comes off duty. I can see that you're busy, but, could I pick your brains, do you think? Everybody says that the Captain is the man to work for but..."

The instant he took his wife, this incredible woman, into his arms, he felt all his troubles fade away. The softness of her lips on his, and the sweet smell of her breath in his face filled him not only with deep happiness, but added to the urgency of his need for her.

He buried his face in her hair, and inhaling deeply, he nibbled gently at her earlobe, feeling her shiver in his embrace, and then kissed her again, deeply, passionately. Without his being aware of his actions, his right hand slid up her body to cup her breast, and he felt a deep stab of disappointment as she broke free, her hair mussed, her lips moist and parted as she panted for breath and her eyes sparkling.

"Hold on there fly-boy! She gasped half laughing, "what are you thinking! This is my office, we can't... No, Harm, no..."

"Mac," he said huskily, still reaching for her as she backed away, "do you think anybody would dare interrupt a private conversation between the Colonel and the Captain?"

"Harm" she answered, patting her hair back into place, "Not in the office," and her eyes were filled with regret, "We can't, not here!"

"The hell with it then, we'll go home!" and grabbing her purse and cover, he placed his hand in the small of her back and propelled her still laughingly protesting, out of the office.

"Jen! Clear the Colonel's calendar for the rest of the day and tomorrow morning, we're going UA!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Jen watched them cross the bull-pen, so absorbed in each other that they failed to notice the smiles and broad grins that followed them to the elevators.

Chrissie Jansen watched with open mouth. "That is so not the Captain!" she finally exclaimed.

Jen looked at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure that I know anymore," complained the blonde Yeoman. "Back at China Lake he's one of the hardest-asses on base. But he was like a little boy just now. I don't think I've ever seen him with a smile like that!"

"Harm... er... Captain Rabb a hard-ass? Are you sure we're talking about the same guy? Jen was sceptical.

"Duh, yeah. That's why I can't figure him out today. He damn' near ripped my head clean off first thing this morning because his coffee wasn't right, then he tells me to pack a bag and go to San Diego with him." She paused, "That was so weird, I was worried that he might... then he told me to call my boyfriend, and then he just went tearing out of here like his ass was on fire. I don't get it."

Jen hadn't failed to notice the interruption to the other girl's conversation, and was a bit offended that anyone would think that of the Captain, and said a little stiffly, "Before the Captain was married, I shared an apartment next to his with his ward. I couldn't count the number of times he saw me in PJs, or just a T-shirt and shorts, but he never, ever even tried anything hinky," unfortunately, she thought, "so he probably just thought he'd make nice to try and make up for him being off with you. Chrissie, he really is one of the good guys," she added earnestly. "As for him tearing out of here like that, I reckon he and the Colonel are heading off for some quality time!"

At the Rabb household quality time had been spent and the Captain and his lady lay, temporarily exhausted, gasping for breath and shining with perspiration. They lay quiet and sated, side by side on their backs, with hands clasped. "Do you know what I was thinking? asked Harm, turning his head to look at her.

"No, what?" a drowsy Mac replied.

"I was thinking how incredibly beautiful you are, and how incredibly lucky I am that I get to love you."

Mac's answering smile was altogether more mischievous, "Do you know what I was thinking?"

"No"

"I was thinking, 'what if the Admiral could see us now'!"

Harm gasped in shock and then burst out in a shout of laughter, "Oh, God," he said, "he'd probably have a fit!"

Mac turned on her side towards him, and rested her head on his shoulder as his arm went around her waist. Her right arm rested across his chest, and she felt a deep warm glow of satisfaction and happiness. Why, she wondered had they wasted all those years in senseless squabbles, first the one and then other pulling back, away from commitment. She smiled and wormed her way sleepily closer to Harm, her leg intertwined with his, enjoying the promise implicit in the way his hand was stroking her hip.

"Mac," he said quietly, "if Marines are so squared away, how come your clothes are all over the bedroom floor?"

"Shut up, sailor," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

Chrissie Jansen lay back on the bed in the cheap motel room which was the best that she and Felipe could afford until their next pay-checks arrived. She had showered and changed into a T-shirt and jeans and was waiting for Felipe to finish in the shower. She expected a quiet evening, with maybe a cheeseburger and a beer, and then, she shivered with anticipation, it would be lights out, baby!

In the meantime she re-ran the events of the day. Even before they had landed in San Diego, the Captain had been different; he had changed so much even while waiting to board the C-2, and he seemed to have had a personality transplant when he got to the JAG Office. She was sure he had heard him call the Colonel's Yeoman by her first name, and she sure as hell had used his! If the Captain hadn't been so obviously impatient to whisk his wife away, she would have been sure, just from the look on the other girl's face that there was or had been something between them at one time. It wasn't just that, though, she mused. OK he was only a visitor at the San Diego JAG office, but some of them must have worked with him before. In fact she knew they had; she had spotted Sandy Dennis in the bull-pen, and although they had smiled and waved, she hadn't managed to talk to her. She pulled herself up; she was wandering off the point. People who'd worked with him before had smiled and nodded as he passed through the bull-pen. And the bull-pen itself, felt... cheerful? Yes, cheerful, that was the word she wanted! So... if he could be so cool in his wife's office why was he such a hard-nosed grumpy son of a bitch in his own office?


End file.
